


Abstract Psychopaths

by nemo_baker



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Complete, Episode: s01e13 End of Days, Episode: s02e01 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Episode: s02e11 Adrift, Episode: s03e10 Blink, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemo_baker/pseuds/nemo_baker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you fight a killer that's only alive when you can't see it? The answer: Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The floor of the dilapidated warehouse was covered in bits of crumbling concrete wall. The loose chunks buckled beneath Ianto’s feet as he walked, and the grey powder clung to his shoes. He aimed his torch at the floor in front of him and kicked aside more debris, listening to the echoes as the pieces bounced.

He was investigating a report of a recent disappearance at this site. Three days ago a woman named Laura Donovan had walked into the building and never come out again. No one had found a body yet. Jack had decided it was worth a look.

Upon their arrival they’d found no odd energy readings, or really anything to suggest something alien was the culprit, only desolation and decay. Ianto had offered to scan the inside of the building while Jack patrolled the perimeter. Night hadn’t fallen quite yet, but the surroundings outside of the torchlight were shrouded in shadow, indistinct. He weaved between crooked rows of empty shelving units, as well as a few desks spread out across the floor.

He pressed his finger to his earpiece. “So far nothing out of the ordinary, Jack.”

_“Same here,”_ came the reply. _“I guess check the upper floor, I’ll go around the building once more and meet you in there.”_

“Yep.”

More echoes as he climbed the stairs, metallic and hollow sounds that went in time with his steps. On the second floor, muted light streamed in through the broken windows. This floor was almost bare, with only a few shelves pushed against the farthest wall. Although it didn’t look like much to see, he made his way across the threshold anyway. Looking upward, he saw that the high ceiling was coated in cobwebs.

Just as he reached the shelves, he heard the sound of a bird taking flight behind him. He turned around... and saw the outline of something that looked distinctly humanoid. He pulled out his gun and aimed it alongside his torch.

“Show your–,” he cut himself off abruptly and relaxed his stance. The person wasn’t a person at all. It was a stone statue.

Odd thing to have in a place like this.

He approached, wondering if he could discover its origins. It was a depiction of an angel, with large, stone wings folded against its back. The feathers were carved with intricate detail. Its head was bowed, and covered by delicate hands.

It was as if it were weeping.

_“Hey, there’s nothing out here. I’m coming up.”_

“No, it’s alright. I can come out to you. The only thing in here’s a statue.”

_“Statue?”_

“Of an angel.”

_“Huh. Anything weird about it?”_

“Not really, I suppose. I can take pictures of it if you want.”

_“Nah, just leave it. I really doubt it’s important, especially if it didn’t appear on the scanner.”_

“Mhm. I’ll head down.”

He took one last look at the angel, then turned to meet Jack.

The return of his reverberating footsteps seemed to disturb another bird, as the flapping of wings accompanied his descent.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Yeah, I mean it’s still weird,” Jack said, pulling into Torchwood’s garage. “But I really don’t think this is anything to do with us.”

“There’s always the possibility that it’s something new. Our scanners probably can’t detect everything in the universe,” Ianto replied.

“Maybe. We’ll watch the news for similar incidents, and if nothing turns up we’ll drop it.”

“Alright. Chinese, tonight?”

“Mm. Back to your place for desert?”

He rolled his eyes at Jack’s leer. “You’re just a walking cliché, aren’t you?”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Ianto was convinced the Donovan incident wasn’t nothing. Some sort of… displacement he’d felt at that warehouse. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. But problems of a much more tangible variety soon distracted him as the Rift began a period of relentless hyperactivity.

“I don’t understand it,” Tosh told him tiredly, after the fifth Weevil alerts in twenty four hours. “The Rift Predictor Program should have been able to tell us this was coming.”

“The Rift is dubious, even at the best of times,” he replied.

“Well, yes. But the program isn’t. The only way it could miss something like this is if it wasn’t written to detect it.” She looked annoyed at the idea, and he quelled a smile at her indignation.

“You mean, it could be an entirely new phenomenon?”

“Possibly.”

“Worrisome...”

“Maybe.”

“Need another coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He made his way over to the kitchen, Tosh’s mug in hand, and picked up Gwen’s as he passed her desk. She’d gone out with Owen and Jack on the last call, and her eyelids had already been drooping from lack of sleep before she left.

The strain was getting to all of them. Even Jack was getting more irritable as the hours went by, going as far as to rise to Owen’s increasingly immature baiting tactics. Ianto himself was beginning to feel the need to rub the itch of exhaustion from his eyes. Luckily, coffee-making was a task he could do on autopilot. He let his mind wander as he added the grounds and set the machine whirring.

Tosh’s Rift Predictor Program was set up to monitor the regular (if they could be called that) fluctuations of the Rift. The team had found that it seemed to go through somewhat calculable patterns of natural activity, and that if things changed they were normally aware of them a bit in advance.

Yesterday morning, the alarm had blared with no warning whatsoever. A shocked Tosh had announced a gigantic Rift spike near the edge of the city, big enough that Jack thought he would need the entire team out in the field.

They had found absolutely nothing.

Another large spike, as well as the barrage of Weevils, had kept them running around almost constantly since. Again the spike had turned up nothing. However, it wasn’t as if they could ignore them. But what could be causing them?

A moment later, Jack supported a bleeding Owen through the cog door and the question flew from Ianto’s mind.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“There were four of them.”

“ _Four?_ Bloody hell, Jack. Why didn’t you call us out?”

“There wasn’t any time,” Jack said frustratedly. “These ones were particularly aggressive. They were on us in seconds.”

“I suppose we should count ourselves lucky Owen’s wounds were pretty superficial, then?” Ianto asked.

“If you say so.”

Ianto looked at Jack’s pale, drawn features. He appeared almost like a spectre, hollow and haunted. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair disheveled. A suspicion formed.

“You died, didn’t you?”

Jack nodded, looking down at his desk. “One slammed into me. Broke my spine.”

That would explain the lack of blood. He reached over the table and placed his hand over Jack’s. After returning from his four month absence, it seemed that Jack’s deaths were much harder on him. On the occasions that Ianto had been present when he revived, the momentary flashes of panic in Jack’s eyes had been painfully evident. It was almost as if he didn’t immediately realize where he was. Ianto still didn’t know what exactly had happened to Jack, but he knew it hadn’t been good.

“You should rest,” he said softly. Jack raised an eyebrow.

“We’re getting alerts left and right, I can’t–”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t need–”

“Yes, you do.”

“Ianto–”

“Jack.”

A glare was leveled in his direction, which he returned with an expression of innocent calm. He kneaded his thumb into Jack’s palm, watched as the resolve wavered, and broke.

“Just for a few hours, then.”

“Good.”

“Join me? You need to sleep, too.”

“Alright. I’ll tell the others they can rest a bit as well.”

“Okay.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––  
  
Five blissful hours of unconsciousness later, the alarms blared again. Ianto jolted awake, and heard a groan beside him.

“Another one?” Jack asked, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Most likely,” Ianto said, yawning.

“Lovely.”

They both clambered up the ladder out of Jack’s room. In the main Hub, they saw Tosh and Gwen hunched over the central monitor.

“What’ve we got?” Jack called down to them.

“One of those huge spikes, again,” Gwen said. “But no new Weevil sightings, so that’s something.”

Jack sighed. “Okay, Tosh, Owen’s still out of it so you’re coming with me and Gwen. Ianto, you can coordinate from the Hub.”

“Right.”

“Location?” Jack asked, traipsing down the stairs.

“It’s the old Argall and Baines building, the one you and Ianto checked out last week,” Tosh said.

“Really? Weird.” Jack turned to Ianto. “Coincidence?”

“You’ve trained me not to believe in them,” Ianto answered dryly.

“Right you are,” Jack grinned. “Let’s go, girls.”

They exited, and Ianto was left with a sleeping Owen.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

_“I’ve got nothing.”_

Ianto opened his comm link. “I suppose that’s good. Although it would be nice if we could get a hint as to what’s causing this.”

_“Yeah,”_ Jack said. _“There was one strange thing, though. You said you saw a statue here last time?”_

“Big, stone angel statue. Yeah.”

_“Well, I think someone must have moved it.”_

“What do you mean?”

_“It’s gone.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you fight a killer that’s only alive when you can’t see it? The answer: Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and don’t blink.

Jack called everyone into the conference room after he, Gwen, and Tosh returned.

“That’s what we do in the face of the unknown?” Owen grumbled, having recently woken from his drug-induced sleep. “Have team meetings?"

“I know cooperation isn’t your strong point, but I think you’ll survive,” Ianto said.

“And that’s enough chit-chat,” Jack interjected. “We’ve got a bit of a crisis on our hands. Any luck on finding out what’s up with those spikes?”

“Not much,” Tosh said. “I was trying to analyze them in the SUV. The energy signatures all appear the same. They’re similar in size, and each one is focused on a very narrow fixed point. But there’s no consistency in the time intervals between them, or in their location.”

“Could they be new tears in the Rift?”

“I doubt it. We’ve already seen what happens when the Rift gets wider, and there hasn’t been any evidence of time periods collapsing into each other.”

“What do the spikes look like?” Gwen asked. “I mean, is it an explosion of energy, or something else?”

“More like a funnel cloud, or a lightning strike,” Tosh replied.

“So, _very_ localized.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think someone could be messing with the Rift intentionally?”

“Torchwood should be the only place with the technology to do so. But I suppose it’s possible.”

“Not a comforting idea,” Jack muttered. “But one we should consider.”

“But why would anyone want to create Rift lightning?” Owen said incredulously. “They’re not bringing anything through, or the scanners would have picked up the traces of the objects. Even if they were moved off site. So what’s all this for?”

A thought struck Ianto. “Maybe they’re using the energy itself.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, I hope not.”

“Why? What would happen then?” Gwen asked.

“The Rift itself is almost entirely composed of potential energy. Powerful stuff, but also incredibly temperamental.”

“If too much of it were released, it could create a universal power imbalance,” Tosh explained.

“So, in short,” Owen said. “We’d start having a lot more bad days.

Gwen nodded. “What do we do?”

“We’re playing the waiting game,” Jack said grimly. “Tosh, you keep analyzing the readings we already have. Ianto, if another call comes in you’re with Gwen and I so Tosh can look at the new readings. Until then, I want you to see if we can figure out what that warehouse has to do with anything. Owen, you’re looking pale again. Take a nap.”

“I’m not a bloody toddler!”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The rest of the work day passed without further incident. Unfortunately, there was also no further progress.

Ianto found the history of the building to be completely clear. And if Argall and Baines had been hiding something, they’d hidden it well. Tosh ran every configuration she could think of with no enlightening results.

“I think we need to take a break,” Jack said. “Go home. We’ll look at things after we’ve gotten a solid eight hours of shuteye.”

Everyone but Ianto mumbled in agreement. While the others packed their things and drifted toward the cog door, he instead followed Jack into his office. He waited in the doorway until he heard Gwen leave, and then approached the desk.

“You were planning on staying here, doing more research,” he stated.

Jack looked surprised. “Yes. How’d you know?”

“I know everything,” Ianto said. Then, indicated Jack’s computer screen. “And you’re logged into the Archive database.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll stay, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I am aware. I’ll be down at my station if you need me.”

“Thank you, Ianto,” Jack said, giving him a grateful smile.

“Of course.”

With that, he retreated to the Archives. There was still one more road of enquiry he wanted to pursue.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Jack.”

_“Ianto. You got anything?”_

“Yes. It’s about the victim.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Laura B. Donovan. Columnist for the little-known Aberystwyth Community Journal back in the nineteen-thirties and forties. Mainly talked about the existence of the supernatural, and published blistering anti-war commentary regularly during World War II. She lived in Aberystwyth until she died at the age of eighty four.”

“What does she have to do with the modern-day Ms. Donovan?” Jack asked.

“At first, I thought the names were a coincidence,” Ianto explained. “But this is her picture that was published in the Journal.”

He showed Jack the scan of an old black and white photograph, and pulled up the snapshot from Donovan’s missing person’s file. Jack gaped.

“They’re identical.”

“Yep.”

“They’re… the same person?”

“That’s the conclusion I’ve drawn. There’s not much lineal information, or really any background at all on the older Donovan.”

“Which means there may not _be_ any.”

Ianto nodded. “It’s as if she started existing at the age of thirty-five.”


	3. Chapter 3

James Wright (18, photographer, recently graduated) was the next to be reported missing. Last seen near a graveyard a couple of miles from Bute Park, Wright seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth in a similar fashion to Donovan. And the graveyard happened to be the location of the first abnormal Rift spike.

Gwen, Jack, and Ianto drove out to the site with Tosh’s portable scanner. Ianto hoped that they would finally be able to make a connection after visiting the place. This morning, it had begun to feel as though they were running around in circles instead of solving a case.

The graveyard was small, and located in front of a wall of trees. It was obvious that the place was well kept. The grass was freshly mowed, and there were no wilting flowers or clumps of dirt around the stones. Strands of ivy wound their way through the iron fence surrounding the plot. The wind shook its leaves.

“Residual energy from the spike is still registering,” Ianto said as he walked through the entry gate. “But it’s fading.”

“Yeah, that’s what I expected,” Jack replied. “We’ll just go over the grounds, see if there’s any clues. Watch the scanner and see if anything pops up.”

Ianto nodded. He turned left while Jack and Gwen went right. There was no real need to split up, as there was hardly a lot of ground to cover, but he really didn’t want to hang about. There was a feeling in the air again, like he’d experienced back at the warehouse. A prickle at the base of his neck that told him something wasn’t quite right.

The readings remained steady as he walked among the stones. He glanced at the names and dates as he passed. At the end of one of the rows, he found who their victim had been visiting.

“He has a relative buried here,” he called out.

Someone (most likely James) had placed a yellow rose on Amelia Wright’s marker. A couple of the petals had come loose in the wind and blown over to the grave of an Eve Pritchard.

“Well, at least we know why he came,” Gwen replied.

“Yeah. I don’t see any evidence of what actually happened, though,” Jack said, approaching him. “You?”

“No.”

His phone beeped, and he handed the scanner to Jack while he pulled it from his pocket. “Tosh just messaged me. She found records of a James Wright in the eighteen hundreds. He was an early experimental photographer, but his greatest claim to fame was his treatise on the existence of time travel, which he published shortly before his death in eighteen-sixty.”

“Sounds like our guy.”

“It does.”

“Maybe we should get back to the Hub?” Gwen suggested. “I don’t think there’s anything left to see here. We can look over all of the evidence again and see what we have.”

Jack shrugged. “Guess so.”

They fell into step and briskly cleared the distance between them and the SUV. A light drizzle had started to fall, and the drops were startlingly cold on their exposed skin. Just as Ianto was about to reach the car, something caught his eye amongst the trees. He stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing. It was half obscured by the trunk of an oak.

A pale, grey figure.

He blinked, and it was gone.

“Ianto? What is it?” He turned to see Jack looking at him in concern. He shook his head.

“Just a trick of the light, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

They traveled back in near silence. Each of them was consumed by their own theories, he supposed. Grey clouds gradually coated the sky as they drove through the increasing rain, and Ianto found his energy fading with the sunlight. He stared out of the passenger window, and allowed his attention to drift. Whatever it was he’d seen back at the graveyard still bounced around in the back of his mind. It had looked almost familiar. But he was at a loss as to why.

He didn’t realized his eyes were drifting closed until the car jerked to a stop, and he opened them.

“We’re at my flat.”

“We are indeed,” Jack said.

“Why–”

“You were in the Hub for almost forty-eight hours straight. You should get some rest.”

“I did,” Ianto pointed out.

“Okay, _more_ rest.”

“Just go home for a few hours,” Gwen encouraged from the backseat. “You look dead on your feet.”

“I’m sitting.”

“ _Ianto._ You know what I mean.”

He looked at her sympathetic expression, and Jack’s determined one. He knew he couldn’t really offer a good argument against this, as he’d been falling asleep against the window. And the lingering worry on Jack’s brow told him that he wouldn’t be allowed to come in, no matter how alert he pretended to be.

“Alright.”

“We’ll let you know if we find anything new,” Jack said.

“Mm.”

He slid out of the car, and watched as Jack and Gwen drove away. He walked up the front steps, then unlocked his door. All the lights were out, which meant the power must have gone down in the storm. Other than that, the flat was exactly as he’d left it: immaculately clean and glaringly impersonal.

He dropped his keys onto the counter in the kitchen, then trudged down the hallway to his bedroom. He discovered he’d left the window open, and cursed as he stepped across the wet carpet to close it. The howling wind grew muted, and the damp curtains fell lifeless. Turning away with a sigh, he collapsed onto his bed.

He fell asleep before even taking off his shoes.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A particularly loud clap of thunder woke him some hours later, and he realized the power had come back on. His alarm clock flashed, waiting for him to reset the time, and the ceiling light was glaringly bright to his tired eyes. He sat up, the last vestiges of a dream falling away. He couldn’t remember precisely what his subconscious had shown him, but the connection it had helped him to make still rang clearly through his mind.

The thing he’d seen in the graveyard _had_ been familiar. It reminded him of the angel statue he’d seen in the warehouse earlier in the week. Although it seemed like quite the odd connection, the coinciding Rift spikes and disappearances told him that this shouldn’t be ignored. What if it was their culprit’s calling card? Maybe it could be traced back to its owner, and the team could put an end to what was becoming a wild goosechase.

Deciding a cup of coffee was in order, he pulled his laptop from the bedside table and made his way towards the kitchen. He looked out the living room window as he passed, and saw the rain had eased off. Clouds still rolled across the sky, and he could see the grass swaying with a powerful gale.

He set up the coffee pot, then turned to his computer. On a whim, he opened Google and typed ‘weeping angel statues’ into the search bar. He rolled his eyes, then eliminated anything relating to garden decor from the search results. After scrolling through a couple of pages, he came across an odd entry. A forum entitled ‘Easter Egg Investigators.’

He clicked on the link, and discovered that the ‘Easter Egg’ was in fact a mysterious DVD extra of a man having a one-sided conversation. There was no link to a video, or to a transcript of the conversation, located on the page. Just hundreds of comments speculating about who the man was, and who the message was meant for.

He was about to close the window when a post by ‘larry88’ caught his eye. The timestamp said it had been posted two months ago, and that the user had since left the group.

 **Just had one of the most terrifying experiences in my life. But I finally found out what the egg was about. I’m not gonna say anything more about it. Too dangerous. But I want to thank The Doctor for saving me, and my friend.  
** **-larry88**  
  
The Doctor...

He remembered what Jack had said about his time away from Torchwood.

_“I found my Doctor.”_

Ianto wondered if he had just found him, too.

There was a list of seventeen DVD’s with the easter egg hidden on them. He scanned it, and found that he owned one of them.

\---

After an increasingly frustrating hunt through the menu screen, a young, skinny-looking man with floppy brown hair appeared on his television. He was sporting a pinstripe and rectangular glasses. Ianto sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the image.

So. This was The Doctor.

“Yep, that’s me.”

Okay, that was weird. Ianto shook his head. There was no way the other man could hear his thoughts. He must always say that.

“Yes, I do.”

And that.

“Yup. And this.”

Fuck.

He should _really_ call Jack. Find a copy of the transcript and bring it to him.

“Are you gonna read out the whole thing?”

Or just bring in the DVD– _bloody hell_.

Who _was_ this guy?

“I’m a time traveler. Or, I was. I’m stuck, in 1969.”

Another person came into the shot.

“ _We’re_ stuck! All of time and space he promised me. Now I’ve got a job in a shop, I’ve got to support him!”

“Martha!” The Doctor reprimanded.

She looked sheepish. “Sorry,” and then was gone from view.

Ianto was pretty sure at this point that he’d gone mad.

“Quite possibly,” The Doctor confirmed.

There was a man on his television, reading his thoughts.

“‘Fraid so.”

Forty years before he thought them.

“Thirty-eight.”

“But _how_?” Ianto blurted out.

The Doctor seemed to consider his words. “People don’t understand time. It’s not what you think it is.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me what it is, then?”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah, trust me. I know.”

“Very complicated.”

“I live a complicated life. And I’m talking to my telly. Please indulge me.”

“People assume that time is a straight progression of cause to effect. But actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a great big ball of wibbly-wobbly… timey-wimey… stuff.”

“Had that thought out, didn’t you?”

“It… got away from me, yeah.”

“Wow. It’s like you can actually hear me.”

“Well I can hear you.”

“Oh my god.”

“Well, not hear you exactly. But I know everything you’re going to say.”

“Oh yes. That makes much more sense.”

“Look to your left.”

He whipped his head around, but all he could see was his empty armchair.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve got a copy of the finished transcript. It’s on my autocue.”

“But there’s no transcript being written.”

“I told you, I’m a time traveler. I got it in the future.”

“What the hell. Wait… this message isn’t actually meant for me. Someone else wrote the transcript. In the future. And you got it somehow.

“Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“What matters is we can communicate. We’ve got big problems now. They’ve taken the blue box, haven’t they? The angels have the phone box?”

“Again, I don’t think this applies to me. But the angels… what are they?”

“Creatures from another world.”

“Brilliant,” Ianto sighed. “But, they’re just stone.”

“Only when you see them.”

“Explain.”

“The Lonely Assassins, they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from but they're as old as the universe, or very nearly. And they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantum-locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing they literally turn to stone, and you can’t kill a stone. 'Course, a stone can’t kill you either, but then you turn your head away. Then you blink. And oh yes it can.”

Ianto’s throat suddenly felt dry, and he swallowed nervously. He’d been inches away from one of them just a few days ago.

“That’s why they cover their eyes. They’re not weeping, they can’t risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. Loneliest creatures in the universe. And I'm sorry, I'm very, very sorry. It’s up to you now.”

He really did seem regretful.

“What is?” Ianto said hoarsely.

“The blue box, that's my time machine. There's a world of time energy in there they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the sun. You have got to send it back to me.”

“They don’t have your phone box, Doctor. They’re taking people. And messing with the Rift.”

What could they possibly… oh.

Maybe they were trying to feed off of the potential energy in the Rift.

“How do I stop them?”

“And... that's it I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last I've got. I don't know what stopped you talking, but I can guess. They're coming. The angels are coming for you, but listen; your life could depend on this. Don't blink, don't even blink. Blink, and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink. Good Luck.”

The video ended. His mind reeled.

Now, it was time to call Jack.

He reached to his right to grab his phone from the coffee table, and his heart stopped.

There was a Weeping Angel staring at him through the living room window.


	4. Chapter 4

He gasped and lurched backward. He hit the chair behind him forcefully, and resisted the urge to close his eyes against the pain of the jolt.

_“Don’t blink, don’t even blink. Blink, and you’re dead.”_

The Angel’s gaze was empty and terrible. It pinned him to the carpet, sent waves of fear rolling down his spine. Flecks of water glistened upon the stone shoulders and head. Its hand reached toward the window, and its fingers pressed against the pane. More than anything, Ianto wanted to run. But there was no way he could leave the flat without taking his eyes off of it.

And he didn’t even know if it was the only one.

He inched towards the table again, and grasped his phone. He dialed Jack’s number without looking down, and waited.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_“Hey, there.”_

“Help me.”

That came out a bit more panicked than he’d intended.

_“Ianto? What’s wrong?”_

“It’s the statues, Jack,” Ianto said. “The angel statues are _alive_. They’ve been sending people back into the past, and trying to feed off of the Rift energy. And there’s one at my flat right now and it’s going to _kill me_.”

_“Get your gun, lock yourself in your room–”_

“I can’t leave the living room. It can only move when I’m not looking at it. And guns won’t work because it’s made of bloody stone.”

_“Okay, just hang on. We’re heading over right now.”_

“Can you stay on the line?”  
_  
“Yes.”_

“Hurry, please.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Time had never moved slower. It inched along at a perilous crawl as the Angel continued to stare. Ianto held the phone to his ear like a lifeline, and his eyes burned.

“Jack–” his voice broke.

_“Four minutes.”_

“Who else is with you?”

_“Everyone.”_

“Oh. Say hi, for me.”

_“You’ll be able to do that yourself, in a minute.”_

“You said four.”

 _“Three and a half.”_ Jack paused. _“It’s gonna be okay.”_

“I know.”

_“Hang on.”_

“I am.”

He walked slowly towards the television, and felt along the DVD player for the ‘eject’ button. After pressing a few incorrect keys, the disc finally popped out. As he made to transfer it to its case, it slipped from his fingers. His gaze twitched downward for a moment.

His mistake was heralded by the sound of shattering glass.

He cried out and dropped the phone. The Angel had crashed its fist through the window, and its face was now distorted into a vicious snarl. Its mouth was open, revealing a set of razor-like fangs.

The sound of Jack’s muted shouting cut through his terror. He leaned down to pick up the disc and the phone with shaking hands. His eyes were watering.

 _“Ianto, answer me_ please!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m alright.”

 _“What happened?”_ Jack demanded.

“It broke the window,” he said quietly.

_“We’re turning onto your street.”_

“Don’t come into the flat.”

_“What should we do?”_

“Just let me know when you can see it. And then I can run out to you.”

_“I can see it.”_

“Okay. Don’t blink. Keep looking at it.”

_“I won’t blink. Just come out.”_

He clutched the disc to his chest and fled.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“So I sent you home to nap,” Jack said, once they were back inside the Hub. “And you somehow managed to solve the case _and_ land yourself in mortal danger over the course of seven hours.”

Ianto shrugged. “Can’t seem to do things by halves.”

“I’ll say,” Owen said, pressing another butterfly bandage to Ianto’s forehead. One of the shards from the window had clipped him. He hadn’t noticed until Gwen pointed out that he was bleeding.

“Mind explaining what happened?” Jack asked. “And why the one possession you wanted to save with your place under attack was a collector’s edition of _Dirty Harry_?”

“Well, I can assure you that it wasn’t an effort to preserve the acting genius of Clint Eastwood,” Ianto said. “I began to have suspicions about the statue’s involvement in the case, so I looked it up. That DVD happens to be one of seventeen containing a hidden extra.”

“An Easter Egg?” Tosh asked, bewildered.

“Yep. A video of a man who explained what the Angels are. What they do.”

“What man?” Jack asked.

Ianto locked eyes with him.

“The Doctor.”

Jack’s shoulders stiffened.

 _“What?”_  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

They huddled around Tosh’s monitor and watched the Easter Egg from beginning to end. Ianto added his bits (heavily edited for the sake of professionalism), and explained how it had seemed as though The Doctor had been talking to him.

“But I don’t think the message was originally meant for me,” Ianto said. “There’s been no evidence to suggest the Angels have the phone box, or even that there’s more than one of them. And a comment I found on the Egg forum suggests that the events surrounding this have already happened.”

He was beginning to feel a bit unnerved. Jack had been staring at him intently for the past few minutes, and he seemed to have no intention of shifting his eyes elsewhere. Ianto had taken to avoiding the scrutinization entirely, instead bouncing his gaze between the other members of the team.

“But why do you think it’s trying to feed on the Rift?” Gwen asked.

“It’s logical. If the Angels can feed from a time machine, it would make sense that they could also tap into energy from the Rift. It’s a literal tear through time and space,” he replied.

“Must have been like a beacon to it,” Tosh said.

“Yep.”

“So now,” Owen said. “We just have to figure out how to stop it.”

“And why it targeted Ianto,” Gwen added. “You’re not at the center of one of the spikes, so you shouldn’t be a person of interest.”

“Unfortunately, I think I might have an answer for that part,” Jack chimed in.

“Do tell,” Ianto said curiously.

“Those spikes are its attempts to access the Rift, right?” Jack began. “But who says those attempts were successful? Tosh, you said it yourself, yesterday. Torchwood is the only known place on Earth with the ability to manipulate the Rift. Maybe it’s having trouble, and want to use Torchwood technology.”

“So it was going to use Ianto to access the Hub.” Tosh concluded.

“That’s my theory.”

“Do you think it would have followed him here, after we picked him up?” Owen asked.

“Maybe. It probably already knew where we were located if Angels can sense Rift energy. But I imagine it would have tried to track its ticket in.”

“So it could be outside of the Hub right now,” Ianto murmured.

Jack nodded. “And that’s why we’re all going to stay here until we figure out what to do.”

“I suppose I’ll start the coffee, then.”

He hopped down from the autopsy table and made for the stairs, fairly certain that Jack would follow him.

\---

“Can I ask what was with the staring?” Ianto said.

Now, Jack was looking toward the kitchen sink. As if prompting it to answer for him.

“I didn’t want you to become associated with The Doctor.”

That would certainly explain why he never even mentioned him, except through stupid hints.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I… he’s like me, in some ways,” Jack said, finally looking up at him.

“Which one is worrying you?”

“The one involving death and destruction following him. Wherever he goes.”

“Jack–”

“He’s so much better than me,” Jack continued, almost at a whisper. “He’s saved millions of lives. Hell, he’s saved _worlds_. But one thing we’re both really good at is getting the people we care about into trouble.”

Ianto moved closer, under the pretense of moving the coffee pot. He allowed his shoulder to brush against Jack’s and maintained the point of contact as he filled the team’s mugs.

“A couple things,” he said. “One, I find it quite hard to imagine a better person than you. So you can tone down the unimaginably low self esteem.”

He stirred a bit of cream into Gwen’s cup and placed it on the tray.

“Two, please stop taking credit for all of the trouble I manage to get into perfectly well on my own.”

Jack’s laugh was short, but genuine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! Sorry this one took so long.

“Alright. How do we kill a rock?” Gwen asked the conference room at large.

Ianto could have very easily predicted the silence that came after.

“We could blow it up,” Owen suggested.

“That would just make many smaller rocks,” Ianto pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m not really up for destroying an ancient creature that’s just trying to survive,” Jack said.

“Hits a bit too close to home for you?” Owen said acerbically.

“Maybe it’s not about killing it.” Tosh suggested, cutting off any retaliation from Jack. “I mean, you really can’t kill something that’s not alive. So it could just be about preventing it from moving again.”

“True,” Ianto said.

“So, it can’t move if it’s being watched… what could look at it for the rest of its life?” Gwen pondered.

“Maybe an electronic eye? A camera?” Tosh said.

“No, I’m pretty sure it has to be a living thing,” Ianto replied.

They fell silent again.

“Well, what else do we know about them?” Jack prompted. “They’re old. Incredibly fast…”

“They feed on potential energy,” Gwen added. “Usually by sending people back into the past.”

“Oh,” Tosh exclaimed. “And they were called the Lonely Assassins.”

Then, it clicked.

“The Doctor said they can’t risk looking at each other,” Ianto turned to Jack. “What would happen if they did?”

Jack leaned back in his chair. “They’d be frozen.”

“Forever.”

“Okay, problem,” Owen said. “We’ve only found one.”

“If there are others, then it’ll only be a matter of time before they come here,” Jack said. “If not, then we’ll think of something else.”

“Like blowing it up.”

“ _No,_ Owen.”

“Jack,” Tosh said tentatively. “We might not have any other choice.”

“We can’t just let this thing go around, snatching people off the streets,” Gwen added.

“And I don’t intend to,” Jack said, vehemence in his tone. “But you said yourself, Tosh. It doesn’t have to be about killing it.”

“I could be wrong.”

“Or you could be right.”

“Well, at the moment we don’t know either way, and bickering about it will hardly get us anywhere,” Ianto interrupted. “So might I suggest we figure out how to locate it, and then see what to do about its containment?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the others nodded. Jack opened his mouth, presumably to reestablish his control over the meeting, when the Rift alarm sounded yet again.  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“It’s just a normal spike, this time,” Tosh said, pouring over the new readings. “At a museum a few blocks from here.”

Ianto stared at the spike, noting that the shape seemed familiar. He glanced over at Jack, who was peering over Tosh’s shoulder at the monitor.

“Did the Program tell us about this one?” the other man asked.

“Yes, I think we just missed it because of everything that’s been going on.”

“Makes sense.”

“What should we do about it?” Owen said.

“Dunno,” Jack replied. “The Angel is probably still waiting for us out–oh.”

“What?” Gwen prompted.

“I just wonder… could it tell if the Rift opened?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Ianto said. “Why?”

“It could be attracted to a Rift opening in the same way that it was drawn to us.”

“That would make a lot of sense, actually,” Tosh said.

“So it could be headed over to that museum as we speak,” Ianto concluded. “What should we do?”

Jack gave him a winning smile. “Go and catch it, of course.”

Ianto nodded. Tosh stood up from her seat in front of the computer, and Gwen and Owen came forward. Jack held up a hand.

“Nope. You three are going to stay here and watch the Hub.

“What? Why?” Gwen asked indignantly.

“If the Angel _doesn’t_ go to the museum, then you can make sure it doesn’t get in here while Ianto and I are gone.”

“Hell no,” Owen said.

“Yep.”

“Just because we don’t agree–”

“We’re not arguing about this. Decision’s final. Ianto, let’s go.”

Ianto ignored the exasperated expressions on the other’s faces as he and Jack made their way down to the garage. When they were out of earshot, he spoke.

“About those readings…”

“Yeah, I noticed it too,” Jack said. “That spike’s not dropping something off. It’s gonna take whoever, or whatever, is in its range.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Ianto stared out of the night-darkened window as they drove. Any signs of the storm from earlier had gone, except for the shallow puddles on the sides of the road. The tires kicked up water as they sped along.

“What’s the plan?” he asked Jack.

“I told you. We’re going to catch it,” came the matter-of-fact reply. Ianto turned toward him.

“Yes, I got that. My question was more centered around _how_ , exactly, we planned to do that.”

Jack didn’t answer. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

“So if I have this right,” he began. “We’re going to stop this thing, that we don’t know how to stop, before it gets sucked into the Rift. While risking getting pulled in ourselves. And we’re going in without an _actual_ plan.”

“When you put it like that–”

“You sound like a bloody idiot? Yes. You do.”

“We’ve done stuff like this before. When we get there, an option will present itself.”

“I’m glad you’re so assured.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jack insisted. Ianto shrugged, and decided it was a bit too late for him to do anything but take Jack’s word for it.

They rounded a corner and the National Museum appeared. Jack took them into the parking lot, and Ianto pulled out the portable scanner. They checked their torches and holstered their guns. Ianto peered out towards the building, looking for any sign of their quarry. But there was none. Finally, Jack turned to him.

“Ready?”

“No.”

“Great! Let’s go.”  
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Ianto stared down at the scanner, and then up at the diagram in the entryway of the deserted museum.

“You’re kidding me,” he murmured.

“What?” Jack asked.

“The Rift opening. It’s in the middle of the statue gallery.”

Jack groaned. “No…”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“I’m _sorry._ ”

“Let’s just get on with it.”

They took the elevator up to the third floor, and a tense silence fell. Ianto could feel his fingers tensing around the scanner as his mind played through the various ways this could go wrong. The lift announced their arrival with a soft ‘ping’, and the doors slid aside. They stepped out.

Ianto stared around the wide, high-ceilinged gallery. Beautifully carved stone figures were spaced around the room, casting ominous shadows on the walls. Their very breath seemed to echo in the cavernous space. The intense sense of foreboding that had settled on Ianto’s shoulders intensified.

“This gallery is separated into two wings,” Jack said from beside him. “You take the west, I’ll take the east. Keep your comm open.”

Ianto nodded, although splitting up was the last thing he wanted to do. He watched as Jack strode away, skirting around the pedestals as he went. He swallowed, and made his way down the opposite hall.

He shined his torch at the statues around him as he walked. His movements felt jarring, as if any step he took could disturb one of the figures that he passed. It was difficult to stop himself from flinching when he accidentally met their eyes. The darkness around him was nearly absolute.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway and found a door that lead to the rest of the west gallery. He pushed it open, and light from a solitary window illuminated the room beyond. He crossed the threshold, and nearly gasped.

The Rift tear was in the center of the room. It gave off a soft, golden glow that spun patterns into the air around it. The Weeping Angel was standing mere feet from the breach, reaching for the the light.

The other statues stood around the walls like sentries. The only witnesses.

Ianto found that he had no breath to speak, and no strength to move. His mind whirled, and only one thought was clear. He hesitated for a moment.

And closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

A few days later, Ianto woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He gave a spectacular yawn, then threw his arm across the mattress to the bedside table. He leaned back into the pillow with his phone against his ear.

“Hello, Jack.”

_“Hey. Don’t worry, we still haven’t had any more spikes. Just wanted to know if I could come over.”_

“Yep. Slow day?”

_“Yeah. I guess the Rift is waiting for you to get back from your day off.”_

“How very kind. See you soon.”

_“See you.”_

Ianto hung up, a small sigh escaping him. Sunlight flooded his bedroom, a penetrating glare that spoke of afternoon as opposed to the gentle light of morning. He must have slept for quite a while, which surprised him. As tired as he’d been the previous night, he had still expected his troubled mind to replay his memories from the museum.

\---

_When he opened his eyes, the crack in the Rift was sealing shut before him._

_The Angel was gone._

_He let out a shuddering breath, and collapsed against the door behind him. Relief and shame seeped into his bones, overwhelming him. He stared for a few moments, until Jack’s voice sounded in his ear._

_“I’ve got nothing over here. You?”_

_Ianto bit his lip._

_“No. Nothing.”_

\---

He rolled out of bed to escape his musings, and trudged toward the kitchen. Jack would probably be arriving soon, and Ianto wanted to be able to offer him something for breakfast. He passed the living room, and glanced briefly at the tarp hanging over the blown-out window. Yesterday had been the first time he’d been home since the attack, and he’d been greeted by a sea of broken glass.

The orderly kitchen greeted him with its undisturbed familiarity. He pulled out the much-used coffee pot, as well as a carton of eggs from the fridge, and set to work. He normally didn’t find much relaxation in cooking, and his culinary skills didn’t extend far beyond being able to boil pasta. But today, domesticity felt like a welcome break.

Just as he was spilling the eggs from the frying pan onto two plates, he heard his front door swing open.

“Ianto?” Jack’s voiced echoed down the hall.

“Kitchen.”

There was the sound of approaching footsteps before Jack peeked around the doorframe.

“Thought I smelled something edible.”

“And here I thought maybe I’d managed to hit ‘palatable’ for once.”

Jack chuckled, sitting down at the counter and dragging one of the plates towards him. Ianto pulled up the other chair and sat on the opposite side.

“You sleep okay?” Jack asked before taking a bite of egg.

“Mm. Very well.”

“Good. I’ve just been worried, you’ve been kinda vacant for the past couple days.”

Ianto hoped the tension in his shoulders was imperceptible. “I’m fine.”

“Sure. I just know how you get when you’re feeling guilty.”

Ianto felt a pang in his stomach, and his cheeks burned. He stared down at the counter, unblinking. Jack had figured it out. Although he didn’t seem angry that Ianto had gone against orders, had let the Angel be taken, Ianto dreaded looking into the eyes in front of him and seeing disappointment reflected in their depths.

“And I know how you get,” he replied cautiously. “When you’re tired of making decisions you don’t want to make.”

Fingers brushed against his, and he glanced up to meet Jack’s understanding gaze. The smile on the other man’s lips was slightly sad.

“Sometimes, I need someone to make those decisions for me.”

Ianto nodded.

They finished eating in a more compatible silence, letting the melancholy drain slowly from the air. Jack took the dishes to the sink once Ianto put down his fork. Ianto poured them both a cup of coffee, and took a breath.

“How would you feel about watching _Dirty Harry_?”

Jack snorted, and looked over with an expression that told Ianto he truly was forgiven. Ianto felt the weight in his chest lessen.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I could go for that.”

End


End file.
